


snaps

by orphan_account



Category: The Goldfinch (2019), The Goldfinch - Donna Tartt
Genre: Drabble, M/M, Oral Fixation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-10-24 14:53:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20707844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: I noticed, is what Theo meant to say—but what actually came out of his mouth was decidedly less eloquent.





	snaps

Boris saw Theo looking, flicked a showy incisor with his thumbnail. “New snaps.”

_I noticed,_ is what Theo meant to say—but what actually came out of his mouth was decidedly less eloquent. Literally an ‘Uhn.” And, as if possessed, his arm reached across the table to press his own thumb against the perfect, pointed tooth in Boris’ mouth.

As soon as he had done it Theo was horrified at himself—what the fuck? What kind of unhinged person does something like that? (The kind that unexpectedly reunites with an old friend whom he had spent two extremely fucked up years of childhood together, whom he had not seen or spoken to in a decade, and whom he frankly had thought may have been dead?) Theo’s thumb twitched as if to retreat, but caught as it pulled Boris’ bottom lip downward. And his arm may as well have belonged to the rusted tin man, for all his inability to move it.

Boris, understandably, also seemed shocked at this bizarre sequence of events. His face was frozen with his mouth half-open from where Theo was tugging at it (Boris barely exhaled and hot breath was blown against Theo’s knuckles, _shit_), but his wide dark eyes were quickly darting across Theo’s face as he—presumably—tried to puzzle out what the hell was occurring.

It was only as Boris slowly brought his hand up to Theo’s own—fingertips barely touching the back of Theo’s hand—that Theo was finally broken from his spell, yanking his arm back across the table as if it had been dipped in acid.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I did that. I must be— I, I’m really out of it right now. I—”

Boris barks out a laugh. “Hah, don’t be! Some things are different, yes? And, hah, feeling is believing, right?”

Theo was continuing to stammer out apologies, mortified—wait, was that blush on Boris’ cheeks?—when he shut up and whipped his head around at a soft voice speaking Polish very close-by. It was a waiter bringing their drinks and, what, several plates of food? They worked quickly and with their head bent down, with an apologetic expression like they had interrupted something.

It was like the god-damn Las Vegas taxi driver all over again.

**Author's Note:**

> Alternative title: Are you really sticking your hand in my mouth? Right in front of my stuffed cabbage???


End file.
